Treasure in the Shire
by marbienl
Summary: Pre-LOTR. What might have happened if a certain Ranger was in trouble while guarding the Shire? And what happens when Frodo gets caught in it? Complete.
1. Default Chapter

**Title:** Treasure in the Shire

**Author:** marbienl

**Summary:** Pre-LOTR. What might have happened if a certain Ranger was in trouble while guarding the Shire? And what happens when Frodo gets caught in it?

**Disclaimer** I don't own them, just wish that I did… sigh. They belong to the wonderful professor named J.R.R Tolkien…

**A/N:** this is the first fic I ever started and I'm ashamed to say I've left it hanging for so long. I've finally come back to this one and made some slight adjustments in the first four chapters (used more synonyms – nothing's different about the story) and have written it till the end - _cringes_ - only one chapter. Sorry for the wait, but I hope you'll enjoy it!

x x x x x

**Chapter 1**

It was a sunny afternoon when Frodo was taking a walk in the forest. Bilbo had gone away for the day, having some business in Tuckborough.

Frodo had wanted to take Sam with him, but the old Gaffer needed Sam to take over for him, since he himself was sick with the flu. Normally, the Gaffer would not have given up his work, but the flu had hit him badly. The old Hobbit had almost never in his entire life been sick, but when he was sick, he _really_ was sick – unable to leave the bed and nearly delirious with fever. Luckily, all that he needed was a couple of days of rest and he would be as good as new, but in the meantime, Sam was going to have to say goodbye to free time.

Frodo sighed. Merry and Pippin were no doubt getting themselves into mischief, robbing farmer Maggot's crops again… Joining in the mischief might have been an idea, but he wasn't in the mood. While at Brandy Hall, he had been quite the terror. Getting into mischief on a regular basis, and though he still liked to do mischief, it was a lot less.

At Buckland, he had been surrounded with Brandybucks, who were notorious for their behaviour, but at Hobbiton… The Hobbits here were… different. Not bad people, but just, different.

It had been a long time since he had seen his younger friends. He really wanted to go there and see what they were up to, but if Frodo decided to visit them, he would be gone too long. He would worry Bilbo if he wasn't home when his uncle returned. So, with no one around to keep him company, he decided to go on a long walk. Normally, the young Hobbit loved to stay in the gardens of Bag End and read some of his books, but today was a good day and he would love to spend time in the woods…

x x x x x

Some time in his walk, Frodo heard a noise al of a sudden… He tilted his head, straining his ears to better hear where the sound came from. It sounded like… metal on, what? Metal? How could that be?

The youngster located the sound – it was coming from behind some bushes up ahead and, quiet as only Hobbits and elves can be, he sneaked closer to have a look at what was going on.

His mouth dropped open at what he saw. Men! He had heard of Men and knew that they were big – after all, he knew Gandalf and he was a big person – but to see Men here in the Shire!

Seven men there were. Six of them were clothed in the same fashion, all wearing black clothes and all were bald. Some carried bows nearly as big as themselves and knives, others carried swords. All had ugly scowls on their faces though which seemed to be carven in stone. Frodo shuddered; he instinctively knew that these were up to no good.

The seventh person was clothed in green and brown. _He sort of blends in into these woods,_ Frodo thought. He had long, dark hair and his beard hadn't seen a razor in a long while, but he seemed to be a good person. It was just something in how he held himself… He was fighting off the other six with a sword. _He's quite good with it too. Better than the others at any rate._ And the man was; he defeated three men, knocking them out with swift moves, but, while he had been fighting them off, one of the six had sneaked behind him and was raising his sword to the man in green and brown, ready to strike.

_I must do something! But what? I'm just a small Hobbit. I can't even fight off one Man!_ Frodo thought, looking down at the ground, looking at some stones by the bushes. _Hmm, stones. Yes! They will do._

And, wasting no time, he grabbed one. He stood, aimed, and threw it, aiming at the one's head. It hit its target and the man fell down. He would be suffering a major headache when he woke. Quickly, Frodo hid again.

The man in green and brown heard a dull sound and managed to spare a quick glance at what it was. He saw one of his assailants lying on the ground, a bruise already forming on his head and his sword lying some feet away. He had not long to think about it, for the two that were left attacked doubly as fierce.

But, unseen to the stranger, and also to Frodo, one of the men knocked out before had regained consciousness and was sneaking away silently.

All of a sudden, Frodo felt a meaty hand clamp over his mouth. An arm went around his chest, squeezing painfully so. Frodo wasn't sure, but he thought he could feel some ribs crack under the pressure. It was getting hard for Frodo to breathe and he could see stars entering his vision.

"Big… mistake…" He heard a voice growling in his ear. "You shouldn't have meddled in other people's business. Now, you'll be sorry for it!"

The man lifted him up and carried him out of the bushes, walking to where the fight was taking place.

"Ranger!" he shouted. "If you care about your… little _helper_," he sneered, looking down at his captive, "you will lay down your sword and surrender!"

The fighting stopped. _No! Don't!_ Frodo tried to yell, but he was not to be heard with the big hand covering his mouth.

The ranger looked at him and for a short moment, Frodo thought he saw surprise, followed by recognition, flickering in the grey eyes beholding him. Frodo tried to hold the ranger's gaze as the stars took over his vision, trying to let them say what his voice could not.

_I'm so sorry… _

x x x x x

**TBC**


	2. 2

**Disclaimer** I don't own them, just wish that I did… sigh. They belong to the wonderful professor named J.R.R Tolkien…

x x x x x

**Chapter 2**

The ranger looked in the Halfling's eyes. At first he had been surprised to see him. They normally didn't meddle in other people's business, certainly not when Big People were involved. But he recognised this one. This was Bilbo's nephew – Frodo he believed his name was.

Frodo was held in a cruelly tight grip by the big thug holding him and he was looking very intently into the rangers eyes, though his eyes seemed to lose focus by the second, trying to convey something to him. He thought he could see regret in the Hobbit's eyes.

The ranger dropped his sword and looked at the men surrounding him. "Don't harm the Halfling any further," he said as he stood there, weighing their chances of survival. "Leave him out of it; he's an innocent being."

"An innocent!" shouted the thug, "Look what he did to my mate! Damned rock thrower!"

The ranger looked at the fallen thug, looking at the bruise on the side of his head. _Of course_, he thought,a small smile curling the corners of his lips. _If you have a Hobbit against you, you'd better run away fast before they find something to throw, or else…_

"Okay, so he is not completely innocent, but there's no reason to use such force on him. You're twice bigger and stronger then he is. Let him down."

The thug holding Frodo looked at his captive. "Fine," he said, releasing his grip on the unconscious Hobbit. With a loud thud Frodo fell to the ground. "Happy now, _ranger_?"

The ranger said nothing; he just looked at the thug, anger burning in his grey eyes. The other man grasped a knife from his belt and bent down, holding the blade to the Hobbit's neck.

"You will cooperate, or I cut this one's throat. Understood?"

The ranger balled his fists but nodded.

"Yo, Smarty! Tie him up, but good! If he even resists a little, I'll cut this one's throat, so you needn't worry about him."

The one called Smarty went back a distance to some bags lying there. He searched inside and came up with several pieces of rope. Then he walked over to the ranger, looking at him with a challenge in his eyes. "Turn around!"

The ranger did so. Smarty grabbed his hands and bound them tightly behind his back. Then he hit the ranger in the back, hard, causing him to fall to the ground. Unable to break his fall the poor man landed flat on his front and he closed his eyes for a moment, recovering from the shock, thinking, _Damn them! We rangers are supposed to protect the Shire. But I let my guard down for a small moment…_

He wanted to struggle, to fight these men, but he couldn't. He felt his legs being tied, at his ankles and his knees, making him feel totally helpless. _When I heard the rumours in Bree of these men I was intent to make them leave the area. But they had already entered the Shire, intent on their rampage and intent to rob and hurt some poor Hobbits. I could have taken them, had I been more alert…_

He opened his eyes as he felt hands on his shoulders, turning him on his back.

"What should we do with you, ranger? I think you could tell us where all the good stuff is here in this little country, after all, you come here often."

"The Hobbits don't have anything that you consider 'good stuff'. They don't care for wealth; their greatest treasure would be a banquet with as much food as they can eat!"

The thug stooping over Frodo raised himself and kicked the Hobbit in his side. "I don't believe you," he said, "We've heard that the small people have treasures so big, you'd need many wagons to transport them. We want the treasures!"

_They're not dwarves, you idiot!_ He wanted to shout, but refrained himself. The thug would only hurt Frodo more.

Suddenly, there was a weak coughing. The ranger looked at the Hobbit. He was starting to stir a bit. The thug looked down at the Hobbit. "Yo, Smarty! Get some more rope and tie this one up too!"

Smarty did as he was told, rolling Frodo on his front to tie his arms behind his back, then tying his legs and rolling him around again. He grabbed the Hobbit under his armpits and dragged him until he was next to the ranger.

_Be careful you idiots! You're killing him with your rough treatment!_ Is what the ranger thought, but he said: "You're right, they _do_ have great treasures. But they hide it near the borders of the Shire. I will take you there, but let the Hobbit go…"

"No, he goes with us to ensure your cooperation. With him around, you won't dare trick us. Now, since you've been such a good little ranger, we'll let you stay close to you little friend. Today we'll stay here, the dark has already come. Tomorrow, with the first light of dawn, you'll lead us to the treasures. What happens then, who knows? Maybe we'll kill you, maybe we'll leave you behind, all tied up as you are now."

The thug looked at his mates. The once that had been knocked out were regaining consciousness. "Come, Smarty, Draco. Let's see how the others are doing, these two won't be going anywhere anytime soon." The thug looked at the ranger. "If I were you I would rest all you can, you can't escape and you need to be in good condition to carry the Halfling tomorrow. Unless you want the Halfling to walk by himself?" With that, he left, following his companions and preparing for the night.

The ranger looked at the unconscious Hobbit, hearing his wheezing breath. _What's wrong with you, little one? _he worriedly thought, suspecting that it were his ribs that were causing the problems.His gaze strayed to the thug who had captured the Hobbit. _You were much too rough on him… You nearly killed him, you bastard! There was no need for such force and you knew it!_ He longed to yell it out loud, but that would only serve in angering him. And knowing the nature of such men, he would take it out on the Hobbit.

He sighed, looking at Frodo again. _It was a very brave thing you did, little one. Without you I wouldn't be alive right now. I just wished I had been more alert! Then I would have known one had sneaked away. Then, we wouldn't be in this position…_

He sighed. No use going there. He couldn't change what had already happened.

_How do I get us out of this?_

x x x x x

**TBC**


	3. 3

**Disclaimer** I don't own them, just wish that I did… sigh. They belong to the wonderful professor named J.R.R Tolkien…

x x x x x

**Chapter 3**

Not being able to get loose and escape, the ranger tried to rest as much as he could. He would need his strength if they were going to escape.

It was but all too soon that the sun was once showing herself. Frodo had lain in a fitful sleep all throughout the night. _If you can call it sleep when in fact he is unconscious._ The ranger could see the flush in the otherwise pale face and the Hobbit's curls were damp with sweat. If they didn't get away soon, it would be too late for this young one.

He just hoped that his plan would work. Those fools! Why did they think that the Hobbits had treasures hidden away? The only story that came close was the treasure of Bilbo after his great adventure many years ago. But the Big People didn't believe that story; outside of Bree, many didn't even believe that Hobbits were real!

The ranger was alerted to a noise. Looking up he saw the leader approaching. The man looked at Frodo with a look of madness in his eyes. The ranger had seen that look before in men; it was the look of gold-fever, nothing would keep him from finding the (non-existing in this case) treasure.

To divert the man's attention away from Frodo, the ranger spoke. "I believe we'll be going soon?"

The man tore his gaze away from Frodo and looked at the man in front of him. "We're going right now, little ranger." He looked over his shoulder and shouted. "Yo Smarty! Come here!"

When Smarty was near he spoke to him again. "Free him of the ropes. Adjust the ones round his ankles so that our dear little ranger can walk, but so that he won't be able to run away and escape." Now the leader removed a knife from his belt and bent low to Frodo, holding the blade against his neck as Smarty set out to do what he had been told. "Try anything and you'll regret it!"

The ranger didn't move. The worry he was feeling for the little Hobbit was growing every minute. He still hadn't regained consciousness and the wheezing seemed to get worse.

When at last Smarty was finished, the leader removed his knife from Frodo's neck and drew instead a sword. "Pick him up, ranger!" He sneered, showing his sword so that his captive knew that he would not hesitate to use it on either one of them.

"Let me check on the Halfling first. His condition troubles me greatly." The leader looked as if he would have none of it, but the ranger said. "Come on! What am I going to do? Six against one and a sick Halfling! It's not possible for me to escape!"

The leader looked suspiciously at his captive. He didn't trust him, but what would it hurt? The Halfing couldn't die before he had his treasure! Eventually he nodded.

The ranger knelt beside Frodo and felt his forehead. _Burning up!_ He then carefully loosened Frodo's shirt. Both sides were black and blue and on one side he thought he could see the imprint of a boot. _When I get my hands on that bastard he'll regret this! _With a feather light touch he probed the Hobbit's ribs.

The ranger frowned; he could feel broken ribs and some were definitely cracked. He put his ear to Frodo's chest and listened. There was congestion in his lungs, but not the sound that would be present when one of his lungs would be pierced. He sighed, thank goodness, if that had been the case, it would be a very bad prospect for the little Hobbit.

Just then Frodo's eyes fluttered open. He struggled briefly against the ropes still binding him, giving up almost instantly as it seemed too much of an effort to even move the smallest bit. His eyes focussed on the strange man in front of him. He coughed weakly, confusion clear in his eyes.

"Wh-what?" he whispered, gasping for breath as soon as the word left his mouth.

The ranger placed his finger on Frodo's lips and placed his mouth close to Frodo's ear, pretending to be examining him still so he had the chance to talk to him.

"Shh, little one. I'm examining your wounds. Don't try to talk and lie still. I'm sure you're hurting a lot, Frodo."

Frodo looked at the man in front of him. Recognition filled his eyes as memory flooded back and he spared a fleeting glance at his surroundings, seeing the other men. Then he looked the ranger in the eyes upon hearing his own name. "How?" he mouthed.

A wry smile came over the ranger's lips. "I'm a friend of Bilbo and Gandalf, you've probably heard of me one time or another." Upon seeing the questioning look, he said. "Call me Strider. I know you haven't heard that name before… It's one of the many that I have."

Frodo coughed again. Only this time, more violently. The ranger gently rolled him on his side and rubbed his back, waiting for the fit to pass. When it had, Frodo lay limp on the ground, having passed out. Strider gently rolled the young Hobbit on his back, concerned when he saw that the little one had coughed up blood.

"We're going NOW, so get a move on!" Yelled the leader.

"Won't you release him from his bonds? He is not in any state to run away. He can hardly move as it is!" Strider pleaded to their captor.

"The answer is 'no' and now do as I say!" the leader snapped.

Strider sighed and wiped the Hobbit's mouth clean of the blood. He buttoned up Frodo's shirt and drew his own cloak around the small form, hoping to keep out the chill. Then he carefully picked up the unconscious Halfling. The ranger looked at the man, a question in his eyes. The leader, reading the gaze correctly, pointed his sword at him. "You lead us to the treasure, go on now! We'll follow."

Strider set out in one direction. The survival of Frodo and himself lay now in the hands of one man, if only the timing was right…

x x x x x  
  
**TBC**


	4. 4

**Disclaimer** I don't own them, just wish that I did… sigh. They belong to the wonderful professor named J.R.R Tolkien…

x x x x x

**Chapter 4**

They had been walking for some time now and Strider worried about the small Halfling; he hadn't regained consciousness since before they started and the bonds were cutting off the circulation to his hands and feet. Strider had tried to persuade the men to release Frodo from his bonds – he was unconscious, he would not run – but the men were cruel and denied him every time.

"Please, we must stop for some time. The Halfling is getting worse, I need to cool him down," Strider one more time dared to ask the one in charge.

The leader looked at Frodo. Though unconscious, he was shivering, but even from a small distance he could feel the heat emanating from the small form. _Damned pest is gonna die on us soon, _he thought grimly. "You have five minutes," he told Strider, handing him a canteen filled with water, "I suggest you use them well."

Strider gently put Frodo down on the ground. He felt Frodo's body, checking to see if his ribs had grown worse. The colouring was worse than before and the imprint of a boot was now clearly visible. Strider bit his lip and tore a strip of his own shirt, wetting it with some cool water and sponging the Hobbit.

Frodo stirred under his ministrations and his eyes fluttered open. Strider noticed that they were glazed over. _A sure sign of delirium, what with the fever and all._ "It's going to be all right, little one. Just hang on a little longer."

Frodo didn't seem to hear him. He blinked slowly, not seeing his surroundings. "B… Bil… bo?" he croaked, confused.

Strider gently stroked Frodo's hair in a soothing manner. "You'll see him soon, little one. Soon…" Strider hoped he wasn't lying to the Hobbit.

Frodo tried to move – he felt very uncomfortable and he couldn't feel his hands and feet – but even that slight movement sent pain shooting up his body. His eyes fluttered closed against his will and his breathing evened out, leaving him into merciful darkness. A sound was heard with every breath he took – the congestion was getting worse.

_Please be there soon. _Strider prayed. He had led the band of thugs to a well trodden road, well… at least well trodden by a certain Wizard he knew. And that Wizard had plans to visit his favourite Hobbit – Bilbo Baggins.

"Time's up!" the leader of the band of thugs said, "We're moving on, so pick up that Halfling and lead on! I can see treasure in my future."

Strider sighed as he carefully picked Frodo up again and he started walking. If Gandalf didn't show up, it would have disastrous consequences; the thugs would realize he had fooled them and they would kill Frodo. Him too, but that hardly mattered to him – he would fight will all his might should anything happen to his young saviour – he wouldn't have anything to lose then but his own foolish self.

Smarty walked up close to the ranger. "You know what I wanna do with that troublesome Hobbit when we're done?" he sneered suggestively in a tone Strider didn't like.

"Yo, Smarty! Stop babbling and start watching the surroundings! Ranger! Are we almost there yet?" the leader shouted.

"Almost, perhaps a few more hours until we reach the place where the treasure is hidden."

The thug was not happy to hear that it was still a couple of hours until he had gained his riches, but he said nothing further. Instead the man tried to convince himself that he could wait – that he was a patient, soon to be rich man…

Strider walked with Frodo, getting increasingly worried by the minute, when he heard something. He looked up and searched his surroundings, making sure the thugs didn't notice his movements. The ranger could have sworn he heard something!

The thugs hadn't heard anything, but that wasn't surprising. Strider had lived his entire life amongst the elves and his hearing, though not as keen as theirs, was far superior to that of another mortal.

All of a sudden, Draco, who had been walking far to their right, shouted to the others. "Hey! Looks what I found here!"

They all stopped and Strider was forced to walk to where Draco stood. Not such a big distance away, in a clearing, an old man was sitting next to a cart which lay on its side. The man wore a pointy blue hat and was dressed in grey. A staff was in one hand. He seemed distressed and looked as if he was pondering how to solve a problem, running a hand along his grey beard.

The old man looked up from his ponderings and spotted the men. He looked at each man until his eyes fleetingly met those of Strider holding Frodo. Strider held in a small smile.

Then the old man's eyes returned to what he thought to be the leader of the group. He rose unsteadily, leaning heavily on his staff and said: "And why, if I may ask, have you captured a man and a Halfling?"

The leader raised his eyebrow, "That's none of your business, old man. And you'd better get lost soon, or else –"

But before he could finish the sentence, the old man interrupted him. "You'll what?"

The leader held his sword high and tried to intimidate the old man. The old man simply raised one bushy eyebrow. "If your plot is to frighten me, young man, you are not succeeding. I have seen much worse to be scared of a wet behind the ears thug."

The leader looked at his fellow thugs. "Wet behind the ears thug? Mates - kill him," he ordered. "And then take that stone he has in his staff, it looks as if it can be sold for a fair price." The thugs ran to the old man, preparing to strike him with their swords, when the old man raised his staff and spoke some words under his breath.

There was an enormous flash of light, blinding Strider momentarily. When he could see again, he saw six snails crawling on the forest floor. A small smile was on the old man's face, who was shaking his head. "They really should have known better than to anger a Wizard," he mumbled.

x x x x x

**TBC**


	5. 5

**Disclaimer** I don't own them, just wish that I did… sigh. They belong to the wonderful professor named J.R.R Tolkien…

**A/N: **finally finished! _pats herself on the shoulder_ Sorry guys for keeping you waiting for so long! I've finally decided to finish this one because I know how bugging it can be to have a story unfinished. I made slight adjustments to the previous chapters – however, I didn't change all that much, just a word here or there so you won't need to go back and read it again, though by now I fear those of you who've read this when it was first posted have long forgotten what this story was about. Sorry everyone! As for the ones who reviewed the last chapter, **thank you all very much**! I finally took pity on you guys and hope you like the way I've finished this!

As you know I'm not Tolkien, so if things seem off to you, forgive me for taking the liberty with them… Enjoy!

x x x x x

**Chapter 5**

Strider smiled – very relieved his guess of which road to take had been the right one. "You came none too soon, Gandalf." For that was who the old man was.

Gandalf came closer to the pair, stepping around the slowly crawling snails because he didn't want to kill them – let nature have her way with them now! He laughed softly, shaking his head at the stupidity of the former bandits. However, his laughter stilled and a frown appeared on his face as he recognized the Hobbit lying in the ranger's arms. His questioning gaze met that of the other.

"He saved me, Gandalf. These men came upon me unexpected… I was a fool and let my guard down, but Frodo here saved my life." Strider let his head drop to his chest. "I fear it may cost him his own if he doesn't get help soon."

"Lay him on the ground, Aragorn. I will cut your bonds." Gandalf reached for his own knife as Strider followed his order. The old wizard quickly cut the ranger free before focusing on Frodo.

Strider took Frodo's shoulders in his hands and gently, careful of his bruises, turned him on his relatively healthy side. Gandalf went behind the little one's back and cut his arms free. They fell limply at his sides. The human gently picked him up and held the small form against his chest, raising his upper body and making it easier for the unconscious Hobbit to breathe while Gandalf quickly cut Frodo's legs free, disturbed as he noticed the sound Bilbo's nephew made as he breathed.

"He is in dire condition. We must hurry to Bree; we can reach it in but a few hours." He held his arms out. "Give Frodo to me, Aragorn. I need you to lift the cart, hurry!"

Gandalf whistled and soon, a horse appeared from behind some bushes. The animal walked to the front of the cart and waited until Strider had fastened its harness to the cart again. The wizard hurried and took his seat in the back of the wagon, cradling the Hobbit close and murmuring soothing words in his ear. Strider sat in the front, taking the reins in his hands and urging the horse to go at a fast pace.

x x x x x  
  
It seemed to be a very long ride to Bree and both of the older beings had sent a silent prayer to the Valar to spare the life of this little but brave Hobbit. Strider told his older friend all about how Frodo had thrown the rock at one of the men and saved his life and that it was pure luck that led him into the wizard's path.

Gandalf chuckled, "The Bagginses have always been good in judging people's characters. Luckily they have some Took blood in them to make them so bold as to help strangers! And indeed you're quite lucky my boy, thank the Valar!"

Aragorn grimaced, "Young Frodo wasn't so lucky however and it's all my fault, Gandalf! If –"

Whatever the ranger had been trying to say was stalled as Gandalf raised his hand, much like his father would do when he would brook no argument. "Now Aragorn, I will only say this once and then we will speak of this no more: you are _not _to blame for any of this so don't take guilt upon your shoulders that has no place there. Instead take care of this Hobbit and get him safely home."

Strider nodded and they were silent after that. It was only half an hour later when they arrived in Bree. The gate was still open and slowly the horse trotted through the small streets.

"We'll take him to the Prancing Pony," Gandalf suggested, "Butterbur will be able to send a letter to Bilbo and fetch a healer."

Strider nodded – though he was a healer himself as well, he hardly had any experience with Hobbits and he had no provisions that would help the youngster. Once the healer had arrived he could ask for some and take care of Frodo himself. He parked the cart in front of the inn and walked inside. It was still early in the evening yet it was bustling with activity. Seeing the innkeeper behind the counter he walked up to him.

"Hello, master Butterbur. I have need of a room, a healer and someone who will take care of my horse…" he said, not in the mood to explain his business to the curious man and walking back outside to help Frodo out of the cart.

Butterbur, for his part, had encountered Strider before and was well aware of the ranger's manners and ways. He realized that this man in front of him was one who protected the innocent, yet there was this… _thing _about him that made the Breelings feel unsure about him. However, in all the years he had known him, the grim ranger had always paid his bills and been polite enough – more polite than some of his other customers most of the time – so he didn't hesitate to help him this time. "Freddy!" he yelled to one of the Breeling Hobbits, "Go fetch master Thirwain and have Sammy take care of Strider's horse! Hurry!"

As Freddy ran outside to do his master's bidding, Aragorn entered the inn with Frodo in his arms. Gandalf followed behind, a worried gleam in his eyes.

"Ai, master Gandalf! What brings you here, ill tidings? Are you with Strider?" Butterbur asked.

Gandalf however, only spared the man a fleeting glance, "None of that now, Butterbur, we need a room and that healer so quickly now!"

Grabbing one of the keys behind the counter, the other man quickly led them up the stairs and showed them to their room. One look at the Hobbit lying in the ranger's arms made him even more curious. _What happened to him?_

"Butterbur!" Gandalf spoke loudly seeing the gaze directed at Frodo, "Have your fastest messenger ready to depart in any moment. It's a very urgent matter. Tell him his mission is to go to the Shire – Bag End. He must be discreet and certainly not dawdle!"

Used to the wizard's snappy behaviour, the bartender nodded and went in search of a suited messenger. _Don't meddle into ranger and wizard business… _he reminded himself, _it'll only lead to trouble and more questions._

x x x x x

Luckily the healer lived nearby and was there within a quart of an hour. Seeing the Hobbit, he immediately rushed up and examined him. "How long has he been unconscious? What happened to him?"

Strider frowned as he couldn't remember exactly how long, "He's been like this for about one whole day – he woke up only briefly and was quite confused. He's been attacked by Men and has some broken and cracked ribs… he also suffers a bad congestion that needs to be looked to."

Aragorn couldn't stay out of matters concerning the health of one whom he considered his charge and together with the healer he discussed how they would start healing the young Hobbit. Master Thirwain however had more experience with Hobbits and knew what dosages to use. It took them quite some time, but finally Frodo lay in bed, having suffered through their handling unaware and now was swaddled in bandages - his chest and neck covered with some sort of mint paste to ease his breathing. It seemed that with care and love, the Hobbit would once more roam the woods he so loved and play with his cousins again. _Thank the Valar!_

Seeing that he wasn't needed anymore – that Strider would and could take care of the young Halfling, the healer left after receiving some money for his services and for the healing herbs, telling them to call him should they need his help again.

Gandalf in the meanwhile had hastily scribbled a letter to Bilbo while the two healers were busy with Frodo. In it he assured Bilbo that Frodo was with them and alive, yet he urged the older Hobbit to come to Bree immediately. Once finished, he rushed down the stairs where a messenger was waiting. Handing the boy a silver coin, he said: "A gold one will be waiting for you if you hurry as fast as you can. Deliver this message to Bilbo Baggins, now go!"

Eager at the prospect of a gold coin, the boy nodded and rushed off to the stables. There he mounted a large brown horse and headed into the direction of the Shire. Gandalf watched him leave and released a deep sigh. Frodo would be all right, of that he was sure. He only hoped that Bilbo would arrive soon to comfort the boy, for though Aragorn would surely be of interest to him and he himself was known to the boy, there was nothing as comforting as the presence of one you loved with all your heart…

x x x x x

Inside, the wizard found Aragorn sitting next to the bed – studying the pale face before him.

"We're lucky… I had feared the worst but now I'm sure that if he opens his eyes he will be all right," the ranger muttered.

Gandalf walked over to him and clapped the Man on his shoulder, "I'm sure he will… he's made of stern stuff this one. The messenger is on his way and should return with Bilbo in two days I hope. When Frodo wakes he will no doubt want Bilbo around, though don't think yourself safe now!"

Seeing the man's gaze turn crestfallen, the wizard clarified, "The Bagginses have a curiosity that's insatiable! He will question you to death about life as a ranger and any other matter he can think of if he's awake long enough. Beware!"

Aragorn smiled slightly, "I'll be happy to answer any of his questions if he'll just be all right again. I owe him my life, Gandalf…"

Very softly, a raspy voice interrupted their conversation, "Y-you… d-don't."

Startled, the two elders looked towards the figure in the bed and, seeing glassy blue eyes staring back at them, they smiled.

"Frodo, my dear boy! What have you gotten yourself into this time?" Gandalf teasingly asked, kneeling next to the bed and squeezing the Hobbit's hand gently. In a more serious tone he continued, "You had us worried there for a while, dear Frodo…"

Puzzled, Frodo looked first at the ranger, then at the wizard. "G-gandalf? How… w-when did… _you… _get here?"

The old wizard just gently patted the hand beneath his, "Let's just say I was at the right place at the right time."

"How do you feel?" Strider asked.

The young Halfling thought for a moment, testing with small movement his overall condition. "Hurts!" he peeped in a pitiful tone, looking behind the two figures for another familiar face. "Bilbo?"

"He'll be here soon Frodo and before you ask; you're in Bree – in the Inn of the Prancing Pony. Just rest now and soon your uncle will be here. You'll be all right now, young one," Gandalf soothed, his hypnotic voice urging Frodo back to sleep.

Giving up the struggle with his fluttering eyelids, Frodo gave in to the heavy feeling, mumbling under his breath, "_Not _young!"

Aragorn laughed softly once he saw his charge was resting peacefully, "I've been trying to convince him of the same thing for years!"

"Well, you two _are _very young!" Gandalf objected, "If you have seen as many years as I have all humans, dwarves and Hobbits are children and you will _never _be able to convince me otherwise!"

The ranger just rolled his eyes – he'd had this conversation with his two brothers and father so many times and he'd always lost. Besides – _never _argue with a wizard! "Forgive me, oh wise and ancient wizard…"

He received a slight knock to the head from Gandalf's staff for his insolence, "Do you want to become a slug as well? No? Good! Then hush up and start respecting your elders!"

Strider grinned, knowing that the wizard loved this teasing. So together they sat in the room, keeping an eye on the young Shire Hobbit…

x x x x x

The following morning Frodo woke for several short periods and was more lucid, asking a few questions about what had happened and why the men had attacked Strider in the first place. Aragorn answered everything as truthfully as he could, leaving out some of the harsher details and luckily Gandalf steered the conversation to lighter topics.

The congestion was still troubling Frodo and when he coughed agony went through his small body, yet with the help of some herbs the pain was lessened greatly. Sleep often dragged him into blissful unawareness only minutes after he had woken – his body using this time to mend.

Butterbur came and checked on his guests regularly to see whether they needed anything, but aside from food and drinks they were fine. Aragorn paid the innkeeper some money for his quick aide and sent him away again. Frodo's condition didn't grow worse and hopefully he would be fully healed in three weeks…

At the end of the second day a worried person could be heard running up the stairs and running madly from one room to another. Finally having found the right room number, the person knocked lightly before rushing inside at finding the door unlocked. There, in a far too huge bed and way too pale, lay his nephew. "Frodo!" Bilbo cried out, hurriedly climbing up on the bed and paying the other occupants of the room no heed, "Frodo lad, wake up for your uncle Bilbo!" he pleaded, grabbing one of the clammy hands in his own two.

Slowly, blue eyes opened at hearing the familiar voice, focussing on the face in front of him and immediately a weak smile graced the pale features. "Bilbo!" he whispered, reaching his arms out in invitation to be hugged – which was exactly what his uncle did, careful as he noticed the bandages. He gasped as he noticed the horrible imprints the ropes had left in the soft flesh of his wrists.

"Oh, I was _so _worried that you weren't home when I got back! I asked everyone and I had a search party looking out for you and then yesterday the message came… I hurried here as fast as I could!"

"I'm sorry, Bilbo – I didn't… mean to worry you…" Frodo cried.

"He's right, Bilbo. If it hadn't been for your nephew, I would have been killed. He's a hero and I am so sorry he got hurt. Please forgive me, old friend!" Aragorn spoke to the older Hobbit, who only now seemed to realize there were others in the room.

Startled, Bilbo disentangled himself from his nephew only long enough to acknowledge his two friends. "Estel! What's this about Frodo saving your life?"

And Aragorn quickly relied what had happened – leaving out the details this time for Bilbo and he would talk later, of that he had no doubt. It had been too long since they had last seen each other, for Bilbo hadn't travelled to Rivendell for quite some time and the ranger had been out in the wilds for years. The figure in Bilbo's arms grew limp again as sleep once more claimed him and the elders talked to each other for a while, questioning and reassuring each other.

"Well, I'm glad Frodo could help you, the poor boy. Once he's well again and I take him back home I will arrange a huge party for him with all his favourite foods. He _will _be all right again, won't he?" the older Halfling was quite concerned by this, looking anxiously at Aragorn and Gandalf for reassurance.

"Yes, Gandalf and I are both of the same mind," Aragorn assured.

Bilbo nodded, "Good… very good. Will you two come as well then? I'm sure he'd like a chance to speak with you some more, he's never before seen a human and certainly not one of the rangers!"

Aragorn smiled, glad that Bilbo didn't blame him for anything that had happened and was actually inviting him to his home. "I'd like that very much…"

"As would I," Gandalf replied.

x x x x x

Time passed quickly after that – Frodo had a new friend to talk to and asked him about all things under the sun. Bilbo's presence soothed him greatly and he was thankful of the older Hobbit for holding his hand when memories of the thugs resurfaced. All in all he was dealing quite well with what had happened – true to the nature of Hobbits, for resilience in such matters was one of their greatest virtues.

When the youngster was asleep the three old friends caught up on what they had experienced in their time apart. In turns of two they would leave the inn's room and take a walk around Bree while the other stayed with the young Halfling and finally, the time came that Frodo was well enough to return home.

Aragorn paid Butterbur several gold coins – enough to cover for their entire stay and adding even a little more for the good service. Then he requested for the horse and cart to be prepared so they could leave. He and Gandalf sat in front and Bilbo sat with Frodo in the back during their journey and after two days, Frodo finally laid eyes on his home again. The green hill was a welcome sight he thought never to see again and he smiled. _Home… _he happily thought.

Thinking back on the last couple of weeks, the little Hobbit wondered what he would do if he ever stumbled into a sort like situation again. Would he walk away or would he help them, risking his own life in the process? That was something the young Halfling luckily didn't have to answer for quite a few years yet…

**The end **


End file.
